Harry's Furry Little Problem
by galliumite
Summary: What happens when Harry is abducted and escapes? escapes with a mark, a curse, the mark of the moon. What happens when Harry then goes to Hogwarts with that mark? that curse.
1. Prologue

It was a miserable morning at Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging. Or at least it was a miserable morning for those who weren't Harry Potter, although the day would soon get worse for him. Today was the day that Number 4 was practically assaulted by letters, letters that brought considerable unhappiness to Mr and Mrs Dursley, letters from Hogwarts.

"We're going away! Far away! Where they can't find us!" was a bellow that was heard by everyone, even by the neighbours. Those same neighbours were treated to a most welcome sight, the rear end of the Dursleys' car, leaving at speed packed with far too much luggage for this to be a simple outing.

Poor Harry Potter, was not even remotely as happy as he was two hours ago. Two hours ago, when he had in his hand a letter addressed to him, something that was quite remarkable on it's own. Then to have that letter taken from him, as well as all the others and then packed roughly into a car by the Dursleys as they made their hasty retreat was contributing to his dark mood. The constant whining of his cousin that had been non stop for the whole journey was also grating on his nerves. "But I don't want to leave!" "Where are we going?" " I'm hungry" just being a few of the more recurring lines during this ordeal.

Of couse once Mr. and Mrs. Dursley conceded to some of poor Duddykins whinging and got him a terribly unhealthy amount of junk food, Harry was given a ham sandwich, that was sold at a discounted price with an approaching Best Before date. And so Harry ate nothing for the 5 hours of travel that was still to come. After 7 hours of monotonous journeying, the Dursleys stopped at a motel, to refresh for the 2 or so hours of travel to come the following day. The Dursleys rented two rooms one for them, as the parents and one for their son and Harry.

That sleepimg arrangement saw Dudley being able to express his displeasure at having to leave his home, in the form of Harrys' now black eye and Harry now to sleep in front of the door, on the floor, because Dudley would never want Harry to have the comfort of a bed.

Harry was mulling over how poorly his day had gone, as opposed to his morning that saw him bursting with glee at finally holding one of the mysterious letters, letters that he would never see again. Letters that could have had something... anything to get him away from the Dursleys... maybe someone from his real family, a long lost relative? maybe they were... his musings were disturbed by the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He had this feeling, something had entered the motel... he could feel it.

It was then that he heard a rattling breathing. a rasping intake and exhale of breath, a sound that would haunt his nightmares until the day he died. All at once the door was thrown open and all Harry saw a flash of light as the door cracked against his skull. Then the world went black.


	2. Chapter 1

"This really is quite uncomfortable." That was the first thought that came to Harrys' mind as he was jostled by the loping gaint of whoever was carrying him. It was then that he processed the pain in his head and the fact that he was being carried. Then he realised that whoever was carrying him smelled really bad, the smell of sweat, urine and definitely something metallic... blood? It was then that Harry began to panic, who was this person? how was this person carrying him? Harry wisely decided not to resist, because this person was undoubtedly stronger than him, he was eleven after all, and being carried by this person.

Hours passed... or at least they felt like hours, before Harry was set down on the rough ground, none too gently either. The person spoke to Harry, their voice was quite gruff and sent shivers down his spine. "I know you're awake child." Harry decided to play dumb, only to feel an impact to his side that was really quite sore. "Open your eyes, look upon your saviour." Harry slowly opened his eyes and saw a man, a man with a literal mane of dirty, tangled hair. "Good, what is your name, wizard?" The first thing Harry realised was that his teeth were a mess, broken, practically black (although that could have been the lack of lighting) and those canines certainly looked long and sharp, like fangs. But at the end of the day, being called wizard by this person certainly caught his attention.

"A wizard? W...what do you mean?" The laugh was cruel, and terrifying. "You didn't answer my first question" A kick to the side indicacted his displeasure. "You are a wizard, although clearly not of any decent line. Although our time together will make you wish you weren't." Harry was still struggling for breath after the kick to his side. "H...H...Harry Potter" saying his name with a wheeze was the best he could do... altough this certainly stopped the man short, and awoke a momentary uncertainty in his eyes, quickly extinguished. "If you really are him..." The man yanked Harrys' head up, clearly showing off the scar... the scar that came from a piece of glass flying through the air when his parents crashed. After a sharp inhale, the man continued, "that will make this all so much sweeter."

With fear dancing across his features, Harry just had to ask, "What do want from me?" The malice practically flowing from this mans' features was quite terrifying. "This morning I decided I was going to hunt, get some food and wizards flesh... simply the best." While this wasn't strictly true, the statement did it's work well "Y... You w... want t...t...t...to eat me?" Harry was physically trembling at this point. "Well, I wanted to" said the man gaining incredible satisfaction and literal joy from seeing the Harry Potter trembling at his feet. "Now however I have another plan." The smile from this man woke a primal fear in the poor eleven year old. "It's two days to full moon, rest until then runt, you're going to need it."

 **A/N Thank you for reading, I've decided to dabble in writing Fanfiction, and so, here I am. By the way, I'm not Jo Rowling and as such own absolutely none of the world I'm writing in.**


	3. Chapter 2

Rest was not something that was going to come very easily or at all to Harry as he lay on the rough floor, which upon further inspection was raw stone. Harry assumed they were in some cave somewhere, where that somewhere was was anyone's guess. The faint light that had signaled that the sun had just about set, the light that had been illuminating things terribly faintly when he first looked upon his "savior" was now complete gone, leaving the scene black as pitch. Harry was experiencing severe emotional turmoil as he contemplated his current situation. A situation that saw him at the mercy of some man that seemed to be least insane and seemed to want to do something to him that was even worse than actually eat him... an idea that terrified him more than he could put into words.

A few hours later Harry's eyelids had never been heavier, he had taken to lying where he was, listening to the rasping breath of his captor. He knew that a man that was so delighted in fear telling him to get some rest would probably mean that he would need it, and certainly be a good idea however his last comment about the full moon had painfully set his imagination into overdrive, add in the fact that this man believed him a wizard saw him still incapable of sleep and it's tender mercies. "I told you to sleep." The man growled at Harry, resulting in Harry's blood running cold. "I can't, I'm scared." Harry barely whispered it, not nearly loud enough for the man to hear and yet the man laughed, again in a way that spoke entirely of cruelty. "You need sleep. If your aren't completely rested when the full moon comes, you could ruin everything. Sleep or the next time you eat or drink something I will lace it with a poison that will knock you unconscious and see you in severe pain upon waking, with nightmares every time after that when you go to sleep. Assuming you survive all this of course." Harry spent the rest of the night pretending to the best of his abilities to be asleep.

Once the light shining through his eyelids told Harry that it was safe to wake, he opened his eyes and was able to see his surroundings properly for the first time. He was indeed in a cave or rather he was right at the mouth of that cave. The cave was not deep, with the back wall being no more than ten meters away from him. The cave was made of a dark rock that seemed perpetually cold, only now after lying in his current position for the entire evening was Harry starting to warm the rock he was lying on. Once he made it obvious that he was awake, Harry's tormentor handed him a water skin and told him to drink. Realizing how thirsty he was saw Harry take a deep gulp of the offered water. In the few moments it took Harry to realize the water tasted funny, it was too late. Pain bloomed in his head just before he lost track of up, down, left and right. As he fell to the ground only a single thought entered his foggy mind, "not again."

 **A/N Thank you so much for reading! I know the chapters have been really short, I'm trying to establish a base for this story before I start doing longer, more spaced out chapters. Again, I am not JKR, and as such own none own none of the world in which I write.**


	4. Chapter 3

Waking up was not a pleasant experience. Harry knew what it was to wake up feeling uncomfortable, he lived in a cupboard after all. But this? this was worse, way worse. Imagine waking up after sleeping in an awkward position and having your muscles being kind of sore. Now imagine that was the case for every single muscle in your body. That is what Harry felt as he woke up to a sun that had just cleared the horizon. The pain though was secondary to the terror that made up all of Harrys' psyche. A terror that was born of waking up to breathing right next to your ear. Breathing that Harry was able to recognize. "I told you to sleep. Now you know to listen to me, wizard." The man hissed at Harry. "I... I am sorry" throwing caution to the wind, understanding that things really couldn't really get much worse for him, Harry asked one of his most burning questions "What do you want with me?" The man moved so that his face was very close to Harrys', allowing Harry the opportunity to add a scent that would plague his nightmares, the smell of rotting meat and blood that made up this mans' breath. "I'm going to make you my pawn, you will be the answer to my problem." At this the man threateningly held up a clenched fist, "and you will not ruin that plan. Get up. Eat."

Harry finally understood what it meant when people talk about being in so much fear that you simply cannot control your own body... Harry understood it because he felt it. At his inactivity, the man growled "Do you want pain? Get up, you MUST BE STRONG!" the end of the sentence changing from a growl to a terrible yell. At the yell, Harry sat up despite his muscles protesting at every single minuscule movement. Once he was sitting, Harry could see a pot over a small smoldering fire, his senses were too overloaded by fear and pain to register the smells that may be coming from the pot. The man stood and turned his back to Harry and began spooning some of whatever was in that pot into an rough earthen bowl. With the mans' back turned, Harry noticed his clothing for the first time, his T-shirt may once have been a royal blue, now however the colour was closer to grey, and the shirt was literally in taters, so much so that Harry could see most of the mans' back, and see that his back was covered in scars, they criss-crossed his back, speaking of a great many cuts to his body. His cargo shorts were in better physical shape, if just as dirty as his shirt and the man was bare foot, which must have been uncomfortable on the rough floor. When the man turned, he had a dark look in his eyes, and his hideous smile showed Harry that his teeth were indeed pretty much black, with truly wicked looking canines. His clothes from the front, while still retaining the unwashed aesthetic were in much better shape, with the shirt only sporting two large holes near the mans waist.

The man handed Harry the bowl, probably made by hand, and not "hand made" in the way that makes simple things ridiculously expensive. Inside the bowl was a grey broth with a hunk of what Harry assumed was supposed to meat and a heel of green bread. Based on the fact that Harry hadn't eaten since the morning of the letters, he really was famished, end though he was used to being starved by his aunt and uncle. Needless to say he handed back a clean bowl. "Good." was all Harry got.

The rest of the day was spent doing nothing, nothing but drinking as much as he could and eating as much as he could, in an attempt to deal with the undernourishment and dehydration of the past few days. Harry believed that he had been unconscious for a whole day, loosing almost exactly twenty four hours. meaning that tonight was the full moon. Maybe he'd get answers then.

As the light of the day waned to what could only be dusk, the man began stood and pulled out a stick that was made of a dark wood. The man said something in another language, something that sounded like "Prote Maxim" "Repel Horrible"... whatever those things meant. The air in the opening of the cave mouth seemed to waver, like it was really hot. Harry had since moved further into the cave to be closer to the food and the spring of water that was at the top of the back wall.

Then the moon rose. Full. It rose at a point that allowed it seen through the mouth of the cave. As soon as the full moon cleared the horizon, the man seemed to have a seizure, he started shaking, grunting and he bent over double as if in terrible pain.

Then he started changing.

It was gradual at first and Harry didn't notice, then the changes started becoming more noticeable and Harry understood that this was why he was here, he was here to have something to do with these transformations. The mans' hands grew longer, his face grew a snout, his body became covered in fur. His back seemed to break with a crack and reform, meaning that the "man" was not more adapted to running on all fours... on all four paws. Once the shaking ended, Harry could no longer see the man that was his tormentor, he could see a wolf. Harry had heard people talking about werewolves while hanging around the school, but he knew very little about them, besides that they are men that become wolves during the full moon. How could he know any more about them when those that knew about them would never talk to Harry Potter, the troubled child who they would be beat up for talking to.

The wolf, was a dark grey, the same colour as the stone that made up the cave, the same colour as the mans' hair. Once the werewolf stopped whimpering, the transformation was obviously painful, he howled to the moon, the howl was deep, powerful, but went unanswered, which was a minor comfort to Harry. Then the werewolf tried to leave the cave, only to hit what seemed like a wall to Harry. After growling, it turned, and saw Harry. Those Amber eyes were predator and looked at Harry, and lost any gleam of intelligence that had existed in them before it processed that Harry was there. That moment shocked Harry out of his frozen state, and he bent down as slowly as possible and picked up a sharp rock that fit surprisingly well in his hand, all the while being watch by that beast. The werewolf, upon realizing what Harry was doing, barked, and uncoiled, flying with all its' weight behind it at this foolish boy.

The werewolf jumping at Harry saw him brace himself against the wall of the cave and hold the rock towards the approaching mass, hands trebling violently. Once the werewolf hit that stone, it stabbed deep into the wolfs' shoulder, drawing blood, but Harrys' victory lasted less than a millisecond, as the werewolfs' teeth bit into Harrys' shoulder, with a rock embedded in its' shoulder.

After biting Harry, the fight seemed to drain from the werewolf, and it retreated and began worrying at the rock that was causing it trouble. Harry however was looking down at his shoulder, a bloody mess and realized that something terrible had happened. He fell to the floor, with his back to the wall as he slipped into some form of stupor... again in pain.


	5. Chapter 4

Harry knew he was conscious. He could feel everything, see everything, hear everything, and yet he couldn't do anything. His body was not responding to the thrashing that his brain felt it should be doing. The worst part? Harry could see his shoulder, his right shoulder, his mangled shoulder. The blood had stopped almost immediately after it began, but the flesh around the tooth marks was black. His arm tingled with pins and needles. Harry believed he had been in this odd state for about six hours at this point, the whole time, he was trying to fight the pain that he spread slowly from his shoulder, the pain being followed by a burning, it felt as if fire had been flowing through his body, gradually hurting every part of the body that had never been in this poor a state. The whole time, the werewolf had lain on the floor, licking the blood as it leaked from around the stone, and doing nothing else.

The wait was horrible, waiting for control of his body, praying that it would simply return when the moon left the sky. Praying that he would actually be able to move his body again and that this affliction was not permanent, that he would not simply lie here for the rest of his life, dying so soon after his eleventh birthday. It was a shock for Harry to lie on the cold stone and figure out that today, which he figured was now the day after the day he was bitten as he believed midnight had already passed. Today was the day after his birthday. He knew that the Dursleys were going to arrive wherever they were going the day before his birthday. He also knew they would not have done anything to wait for him or even look for him. That meant that they would have left the motel two days ago, the morning he had been poisoned, they would have arrived that day and then he would have kept to his tradition of wish himself at midnight. That midnight would have started the day he regained consciousness, the day he was bitten by that werewolf. It seems that when you can't do anything, you think about things like birthdays. And how sad it was that he was bitten on his birthday.

Finally the son rose, ending the worst night of Harry's life. The moment the sun's rays touched Harry's foot, which had ended up being thrust forward as Harry fell, control returned. The fire of the werewolf bite disappeared immediately and the aches that were the aftereffects of that poison had faded during the night, and that meant that Harry was no longer in physical pain. That healing however did not reach his right shoulder, or his mind. The bite marks remained black. And so did his mind. Harry could not close his eyes without seeing that werewolf leaping at him, feeling the pain of that bite, believing that he would never again open his eyes. Harry Potter was mentally defeated.

The sun also began the transformation of the werewolf back into his human form. Once that transformation was complete, the man left the cave after saying words that Harry couldn't hear and waving what Harry could only assume was his wand.

Time became irrelevant to Harry. He measured time only by dragging himself to the pot and eating when he was hungry and dragging himself over to the spring when he was thirsty. Harry had not the mental capacity to measure time any other way. The shock, the revelations, the fear of what would happen to him now, those took up too much of his mind, too much of his being for him to be concerned by time.

It was a while later that Harry had calmed down enough to realize something, he was alone. The werewolf had never returned. It was then that Harry decided to hope. The werewolf was gone, and if the werewolf was gone, perhaps Harry could leave? But that raised it's own problem... where would he go? There was nowhere for him... Little Whinging was at least seven hours away by car, and that meant an eleven year in the best of physical conditions would not be able to get to Little Whinging on their own steam. Harry's negligence at the hands of the Dursleys meant that he was never ever going to considered in a physical condition surpassing acceptable, add in his most recent trials, and that option was never going to become a reality. Ten minutes later saw Harry on his way to see what he could see so to speak, he was going to wander around the area for a while, who knows, maybe the small town that the motel was a part of would be around and would be a place he could go for a while... and get away from that cave.

"It is... it's there..." those words were the first Harry had muttered in a long time, and that they were words that could bring him hope and comfort was something more remarkable than Harry was even willing to consider. He decided to lie down in some bushes that were in sight of the geological depression that the town was in, Harry had walked about a kilometer that day, not terribly far, but far enough to tax his body that he needed to rest. Fortunately, the cave was at the base of the mountain, which meant that the kilometer he had walked that day saw him only two kilometers away from that town. Harry believed he could walk that distance after a good nights rest...that rest being the first time he would have fallen asleep normally since the night before the "Day Of The Letters." The Day Of The Letters was the day all those letters assaulted the Dursley's home, that day would forever be his Before and After day, the day that marked the clear change that Harry's life experienced directly as a result of that day.

With the faint hope of progress ignited in his heart, Harry lay down, closed his eyes and was asleep in moments. Although that sleep was anything but peaceful. The nightmares came thick and fast, morphing from the usual green flashed to a laughter... a laughter of sheer terror inducing potency. The werewolf's laugh had caused Harry to fear the werewolf. But this laugh? it was high and shrill when the werewolf's was deep and booming. This laughter was cold, and malicious, while the werewolf's was hot and threatening. This laugh was one he wished he would never hear again. The dreams incorporated the smell of the werewolf's breath, the sound of its breathing, the sight of its transformation, the feeling of it's teeth. All those senses engaged in nightmares that always had something to do with the moon... and the Day Of The Letters. Harry woke the next morning drenched in sweat, finally understanding what he had done to himself by not sleeping when he was told... by consuming that poison, and he also knew that he would do anything to free himself from that curse.

Harry was disturbed from his musing by an owl, perched just above him on one of the branches that was meant to conceal him. The owl carried an object that really disturbed him. It carried an envelope, an envelope that looked identical to those from the Day Of the Letters. Those envelopes had been the key that began this would episode of Harry's life. An episode that Harry would do anything in his power to be able stop it from ever having happened... To erase it from his mind. The owl dropped the cursed envelope onto Harry's lap, causing him to flinch quite severely. Those envelopes had featured in his nightmares after all. Harry reached out to the envelope, hands shaking, and turned the envelope over, so he could the address rather than the red wax seal. The address made him want to throw the letter as far away from him as possible.

 _Harry James Potter,_

 _The United Kingdom,_

 _The wilderness,_

 _Near the town of Westdon,_

 _A few bushes._

The fact that the address was actually where he was now was the cause for his worry at seeing the address, was someone watching him? What was going on? Harry made the split second decision to break the seal and find out some answers. Inside the envelope, there were four pieces of coarse yellow paper. Harry pulled out the first page and read:

 _Dear Mr. Potter_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a full list of all necessary books and equipment. Also enclosed is a letter of extreme importance._

 _Term begins on September 1st, we await your owl by no later than 31 July,_

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Prof. M. McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Harry went with the philosophy of "in for a penny, in for a pound" and read the next piece of paper, which he assumed was the important letter that was referenced already.

 _Dear Harry._

 _Something terrible has occurred, we know of your last few days. We believe we can help you. Please ensure that you are holding this piece of parchment at mid-day today. You will transported to us directly. It will give us the chance to talk about any concerns you may have about Hogwarts, and of course talk about your current... situation. Don't worry about the return owl or your shopping requirements, we will sort that out when we meet._

 _Yours Kindly,_

 _Prof. M. McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Every single one of Harry's instincts screamed against trusting a letter sent by someone he had not the faintest idea about. He knew that he should get moving to that town... but it seemed that Harry's desire for answers was stronger that his innate need to follow his instincts. So Harry decided to trust the letter, to trust this McGonagall. That trust saw him sitting with the second letter in hand as the sun reached its summit, and that trust saw him gasping as the letter glowed blue and he felt a powerful tug at his navel, and then world was spinning.


	6. Chapter 5

Harry wished that the world had never stopped spinning. That was because while it was spinning, the world made more sense than it did now, twenty minutes after it had stopped. Those twenty minutes had been spent in the company of a stern looking lady who had her hair in so tight a bun that it seemed to pull back the skin of her face. That pulling only served to make her look even stricter, making her sharp features even sharper. Professor McGonogall, as she was introduced, was not nearly as strict as she looked though, she was trying really hard to help Harry come to terms with both the fact that Harry was a wizard and a werewolf. That help hadn't worked very well, and now McGonogall was kneeling over a hyperventilating eleven year old boy, trying to convince him to breathe.

"Mr. Potter, you need to calm down, breathe boy. Please?" McGonogall was way out of her league here, and was pouring every ounce of her will into trying to make her tone as soothing as possible. "Mr. Potter, how about we sit back down and we can talk about what is troubling you here?" Harry managed to nod his head, flooding McGonogall with relief. McGonogall began rubbing the boy's back, causing him to start unwinding from his fetal position. After a few minutes, Harry was calm enough that McGonogall slowly helped him to his feet, and guided the boy to the couch that stood against the wall, and sat down on the hard backed chair across from Harry, with a low table between them. "Okay, what's on your mind?" that question was not an easy one for Harry to answer, and it saw Harry opening and closing his mouth three or four times, before he could formulate words. "I'm a monster." Harry gasped, and the tears returned, making his eyes glow yet again. McGonogall was not entirely without tears as she answered "Harry, you are no monster, not yet. You have a disease, and that disease can create monsters, but it doesn't have to. You can still be exactly who you want to be." McGonogall's latent motherly instinct really came to the fore while saying that, and the soothing effects of her words were anything but forced. "I don't know you." McGonogall continued, "But I knew your parents, and no son of theirs would be able to become a monster, in the twenty minutes we've spoken, I see them in you. I see them in your fear of the dark, and your remarkable acceptance of the situation." This actually drew a weak smile from Harry. "Remarkable acceptance? I've been freaking out since we started talking." "You are handling this far better than many would, and you have had a traumatic few days to boot." At those words, at the notion that Harry's torture was at an end, Harry managed to find hope. True hope. That tomorrow would be better. At seeing Harry finally relax, Minerva was filled with a sudden joy. She believed that this poor, small boy would be able to manage the problems he faced. And she was determined she would be there every step of the way.

"Now all we have to do is figure out what to do with you for the month of August, until you are to go to Hogwarts." "I suppose I could get a hold of my aunt and uncle..." Harry mumbled, clearly disliking that idea. "No no! that will never work. They should never have been made your guardians." McGonogall's eyes flashed at the thought of those that had done this to an eleven year boy. People that had neglected him his entire life and then when he needed them, they didn't even look for him! "You will be staying here, in Hogwarts." That caused Harry's head to shoot up. "Wait, I didn't know this was Hogwarts." That caused McGonogall to smile. "Yes Mr. Potter, you are presently inside Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, more specifically in the office of the Deputy Headmistress." This presented a rather large problem for Harry. "Where in the school will I stay?" "Hogwarts is a large castle. And as such has many rooms that are not in use. There is an apartment in the Eastern wing of the school. That apartment is normally used by visitors to the school. You will be staying in that apartment, to move into your dormitory once you have been sorted into your house." Harry was still thinking about the fact that the Professor had called Hogwarts a castle. Harry had always liked castles, not that he'd ever seen one, but they always made him feel that they would be really cool places to live. It seemed that he was going to find out exactly what it was like. It made sense for this office to be a part of a castle, the walls were large stone blocks and the windows had a distinctly Victorian look about them. "I'll lead you to your apartment now, tomorrow, you and I will go to Diagon Alley to get your school things." "Thank you... thank you." The crack in Harry's voice carried within it so much emotion, emotion that came from being accepted by this lady. From being happy thanks to another person.

The professor stood and opened the heavy door, and stood to the side to allow Harry past. She then proceeded to lead Harry along the multitude of corridors that existed between the guest apartment and the Deputy Headmistress's office. That journey saw Harry questioning his sanity. There were friendly paintings that spoke to him and suits of armour that moved as he passed. This was going to take a lot more time to get used to than the amount of time that he had in order to actually get used to what was going on.

 **A/N Thank you so much for reading! I'm so sorry this chapter took me so long to finish, it fought me tooth and claw as I tried to write it. Let me know what you think. I am not Jo Rowling, and as such I do not own any of the world, or the characters I write about.**


	7. Chapter 6

The apartment was beyond homely. It was wonderful. Opening the door revealed a room about as large as the Dursley's living room. That room was warmly furnished with dark carpets and rugs, an old looking coffee table and an assortment of bits and bobs that really gave the room character. On the wall opposite to the door, there were two tapestries, one on either side of the large window that dominated the wall. The tapestry on the left hand side depicted a field, in the country. One could get lost in the colours, get lost in the peace that seemed to emanate from the scene. There was a quaint farmhouse in the frame that seemed so at peace with the countryside. The other tapestry showed the same field, with the same house, only now it was evening. And the scene was burning. Harry's eyes were drawn to that scene. It was so at odds with the comfortable room. Why was it here? Thinking about that tapestry distracted Harry enough that when Professor McGonogall saw entered and saw the seen, she was able to cast a disillusionment charm on the tapestry hiding it from sight. "It is best not to dwell on such things." McGonogall's voice was gruff, and invited no argument. "Okay. Where is it now?" Harry was extremely curious when it came to magic and he desperately wished that the professor had not destroyed the tapestry. It was beautiful after all. McGonogall smiled slightly, hearing the worry in the boy's voice. "It is where it always was. And will be where it always is." On that note, McGonogall left the apartment, calling over her shoulder to tell Harry that the clothes in the wardrobe were for him to use, and then she was gone.

Against the wall opposite the door, were two doors, one set in the left hand wall, and the other set in the right hand wall. The left hand door, or the sunny door as Harry called it to himself in reference to the tapestry, led into what looked like a bedroom from where Harry was standing in front of the large window. The right hand door led into a room that was white and clean looking, in contrast to the warm old felling of the rest of the apartment. Harry assumed that was the bathroom, through the door of darkness, again named in reference to the tapestry that hung on that side of the apartment. The living room also had a wooden table dresser that was adorned with a tea set. Harry walked into the bedroom and saw a bed that kept to the old Victorian aesthetic of the apartment. The bed was a king sized one, something that proved to be one thing too much for an eleven year old boy, that had lived in a cupboard under the stairs all his life. Harry sat in the reading couch that was in the room and cried. He had been doing that a lot lately, considering that he never cried, it would have annoyed the Dursley's. Harry cried not in sadness, not in pain, but in desperation. A desperation for everything that was happening to him to be real. And Harry realised with a start that he was okay with the fact that he was a monster, so long as it meant that he was sitting in a comfortable couch, in a richly decorated room, in a castle! And with someone that seemed to actually care about him. Harry decided then and there that it was worth it. And he cried because a part of him still believed this was all some kind of cruel trick. Some kind of prank being pulled by the Dursley's. Or perhaps it was madness that came from the pain of his being kidnapped.

A few minutes later, Harry had recollected himself, and decided that a cup of tea would do wonders to help him calm down. But not before he got changed into those clothes the professor had mentioned. The clothes he was wearing were still caked in dry blood from his time with the werewolf. And the shirt was shredded at his right shoulder. Harry stood up and walked towards the large wardrobe in the corner of the room. Inside were a few T-shirts and shorts, as well as longs. There was also a formal looking button up shirt that Harry decided he would wear when he went to "Dragon Alley" or where-ever the professor was taking him tomorrow. Harry stripped off everything he was wearing as quickly as he could, and grabbed the first T-shirt and shorts, not wanting to be without clothes on for any amount of time. That was until he looked down at his body. It was then that he decide he really needed a shower before putting anything else on. So Harry sprinted across the open living area to the bathroom, carrying his chosen clothes. He then had one of the best showers of his entire life. He left his eyes closed as the warm water washed over his body, and it was then that he realised how tired he was, again. After pulling the odd looking lever in the shower and being covered in soap, Harry looked at his right shoulder, to clean it. And his stomach dropped to his feet. The skin around the bites was still black. Dead. Harry tried poking the dead flesh, and gasped at how odd it was, Harry couldn't feel himself touching his own flesh. That moment, when he realised that the flesh was actually dead was a moment that Harry would remember until the day he died. Because that moment saw Harry accept that, even though he didn't know everything it entailed, he was a werewolf. It also helped him accept that he was in Hogwarts. No prank, no mind games would result in his skin dying. This was really real. Harry rinsed off and get dressed. Feeling better than he had since The night before The Day Of The Letters.

Harry again considered how good a cup of tea would be, before he went to bed for a short nap, it was after all, just after one o'clock in the afternoon. Harry stepped into the living room and walked to the table dresser, to make himself some tea. The tea set looked so delicate, made of porcelain with designs of flowers and horses on the pieces. The best part was that the designs actually moved. The tea spoon was a real thing of beauty, made of what Harry believed was actual silver adorned with the Hogwarts crest. The water in the tea-pot seemed to be eternally hot. After pouring tea that was perfectly brewed from the pot, Harry reached out to the silver tea spoon, just before his fingers touched the metal, it seemed to glow with an angry, hot light. There was no feeling of heat on his finger tips, so Harry simply assumed that there was some kind of magic on the spoon. Until he touched it. Pain lanced up Harry's arm, and it felt like he had been simultaneously burnt and electrocuted by the spoon. His fingers really hurt, and were an angry red, but did not seem to be terribly burnt. Harry's mind quickly became foggy though and he fell to the ground, pulling the cloth that was under the tea set, dragging the hot liquid onto his back. Not that he could feel it, he was too far gone. There was a crash as Harry fell, and Harry dimly heard the sound of running feet as he lost consciousness.

Harry awoke to the sound of two ladies having a screaming match. One of the voices was undoubtedly Professor McGonogall's, and the other was one that he had never heard before, it was the unknown voice that was screaming when Harry was awake enough to hear the actual words being screamed. "... you! Silver? In the same room as the boy? What were you thinking?" Professor McGonogall was actually much quieter as she answered, and it really sounded like she may burst into tears. "I didn't think. I forgot that the cutlery in the school is pure silver. I forgot what it would do to him. Will he be okay?" The other lady seemed to deflate in her tone as well, but she still harrumphed as she responded. "Of course he'll be okay, so okay in fact, that I think you will find that this conversation has a nonspeaking bystander." Harry opened his eyes, knowing he was caught, just as Professor McGonogall and a relatively old, kindly looking witch rounded the curtain surrounding his bed. "I am glad to see you awake Harry." Said the professor. To the other witch she said "Thank you Poppy, I'll handle him from here." That saw the other witch, presumably named Poppy leaving from Harry's bedside. "Harry I have to offer you my sincerest apologies." The professor began. "You as a werewolf can't touch silver. And I foolishly left some silver cutlery in your apartment. You are now in the hospital wing, being treated for the burns on your back, as well as silver poisoning." Harry was confused for two reasons, "umm, Professor, my back is fine, and what is silver poisoning? I've never hear of it." This summoned a weak chuckle from Minerva. "Your back is healed now, magic is a wondrous thing child. Silver poisoning is an affliction that only ever happens to werewolves. When a werewolf comes into contact with silver, it causes them great pain, as you must know." Harry presented a wry smile at that. "Although that is not the worst of it. For reasons unknown, silver is able to very easily enter into a werewolf's blood stream, as what happened to you. The presence of that which is fatal to you in trace amounts in your blood, causes your body to shut down, sometimes with catastrophic effects. You were fortunate in that the only thing that happened to you was that you fell unconscious." This had Harry worried. " Am I okay now though?" "Oh yes, the silver has been expelled from your system, you are quite alright. So alright in fact that once we're done talking, I'll walk you to your apartment. It is about eight in the evening now." The prospect of returning to "his apartment" really appealed to Harry. The professor continued, "There is no longer any silver anywhere in the apartment. So it should now be very safe." "Thank you so much professor." "Shall we go?" "I never much cared for hospitals, the idea of leaving is really quite appealing."

Once they had reached the apartment, the Professor bid Harry good evening, which he reciprocated, not blaming professor McGonogall in the slightest for the whole episode. Inside was a platter of wholesome looking food, which Harry devoured, noting how delicious the food was. After his evening feast, Harry prepared for sleep, his head meeting the down pillow. His eyes began to drift closed, the weight on them growing. The warmth of the bed making for an environment that was highly conducive to sleep. Just as the tendrils of sleep began to grip his mind, Harry mumbled out loud a single word. That world carrying so much weight, to Harry at least "Wow."

 **A/N Thanks for reading! I can't believe how long it's taking me to get to the first day of Hogwarts! Guys, I need help, what house should I sort Harry into? I don't really want him to go into Gryffindor, so I'll ask you guys. The next chapter should be about Diagon Alley, and then we should get round to Hogwarts! Let me know if you feel that this story is going too quickly or too slowly. My current plan is for this story to encompass every one of Harry's years at Hogwarts. Again thank you all so much for reading!**


	8. Chapter 7

The nightmares of that night had evil laughter, the smell of the werewolf's breath, the sound of it breathing. Those were all the same as the last time Harry went to sleep. Even the recurring full moon was the same and the feeling of impending doom. Tonight however, the nightmares played on Harry's latest fear, silver. Every scene of the nightmares had silver in them. In one of the scenes, the werewolf had silver fangs as it attacked Harry, causing him monumental amounts of pain.

Harry woke up in a cold sweat, with the light of the outside world just beginning to penetrate the heavy white drapes that hung in front of the window. Harry stood up slowly, still breathing erratically as a result of waking from nightmares. Harry checked over himself to be certain that he was alright. And upon noticing his hunger, walked into the living room to try and find some food. Lo and behold! On the small coffee table was yet another platter of food, only this time the food was perfect for breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast, cereals, it was amazing! Harry dove in, enjoying the food. Once Harry was full, he looked about him and noticed a piece of that weird paper from the envelopes. Curious, Harry stood and walked over to the page. " _Harry, Please be ready to leave to go get your school equipment by 8AM. Signed, Professor M. McGonogall. P.S. Please ensure that the scar on your head is hidden, either by hair, or a hat, if your hair is not long enough to hide it._ "

That Post Script was quite odd for Harry to read, what was wrong with his scar? Harry decided not to pester McGonogall about it, she was taking him shopping after all. Harry, after reading the memo, checked the time, upon seeing that it was only half past six, Harry made himself a cup of tea, before getting changed into a pair of denims and a button up shirt. Looking smart, but not overly formal. For the next hour, Harry simply stood in the living room, staring out of the widow and thinking. Another thing he was doing a lot lately.

At five minutes to eight, there was a knock on Harry's door. "Come in." The butterflies of nervousness awoke in Harry's stomach, he was quite nervous to go wizard shopping. The door creaked open, admitting Professor McGonogall dressed in a rich bottle green cloak. "Ah, Harry, I'm glad to see you ready, I was worried you wouldn't get my note." "I got it, where are we going Professor?" At this the Professor smiled and said: "We are going to Diagon Alley in London. There we can get everything magic associated." Harry was confused at this as something occurred to him "Professor, where are we? Where is Hogwarts? Is it near to London?" The professor paused for a moment, before answering "Hogwarts is always difficult to locate. It cannot be plotted on a map and as such a precise location is difficult to pinpoint. But for this purpose, Hogwarts is in the Scottish highlands. This then means that classic transport would take far too long to get us into London, so we will be apparating." Seeing the question in Harry's eyes, she continued. "apparation is a form of magic that allows a witch or wizard to transport themselves and anything or anyone they are carrying great distances in no time. Today I will apparating, while you hold my arm." "Okay, when shall we leave." The Professor held out her arm. "Right now, hold my arm, this may be uncomfortable." Without hesitation, Harry stepped from the window and grabbed onto the Professor's arm. He was then greeted with a feeling that would have terrified him, had he been claustrophobic. The feeling was like he was been sucked up a tube that was too small for him, he felt himself being compressed by the tube. Just as he started to feel really uncomfortable, the feeling disappeared, and Harry could breathe again. Opening his eyes, he found that he was in a courtyard beyond a grubby looking building, with an old brick wall in front of him. Professor McGonogall tapped a brick on said wall and stepped back as a hole started to form in the wall. "Welcome Mr. Potter to Diagon Alley."

Harry could barely process what he saw through the hole in the wall. There were people, dressed in colourful cloaks and robes of every hue, every person speaking to every other person, or at least that's how it sounded. Then there were the stores. They were buildings that looked like they belonged in the 18th century. They were adorned with names that made no sense to Harry, from an apothecary, to an owl emporium. Minerva decided to speak upon seeing the dazed look in Harry's eyes, it seemed as though he really needed some direction. "The first thing we need to do is go to the bank, I have your vault key here." "Okay. Where is the bank?" McGonogall gestured down the cobbled street, to a colossal white building that dwarfed those around it. Harry decided to let the Professor go before him. McGonogall, upon seeing Harry's discomfort at being in so strange an environment, started to make her way to Gringotts bank, with Harry in tow. As she passed, most of the witches and wizards greeted her formally. Harry came to the understanding that Professor McGonogall was well know in the magical community, which then begged the question, why was she helping Harry? Harry who had spent so much time as a nobody? Was it because she was worried about him being a werewolf in company? But Harry didn't feel all the different. The only change was that his shoulder had no feeling, but that was covered up... so why was he being helped by a really well known witch? What made Harry special? Harry was disturbed from his thoughts that were becoming progressively more erratic by a door. A large door, gilded with gold. Harry had zoned out it seemed and they were already at the bank. Professor McGonogall continued inwards, through the door and into the bank, with Harry following just behind. What he saw inside was more grand perhaps than the imposing nature of the white marble that made up the facades of the bank. Inside there were wall decorations, depicting anything from the mining of gold, to wars. The soldiers in those tapestries or three dimensional scenes of rock, were the same things as the tellers that sat at the counters that ran the length of the bank floor.

"Those Mr. Potter are goblins." The professor provided Harry with the necessary information before he could ask and cause offence. "They are incredibly smart and have a knack for numbers. They also have a very strict honour code that would see them draw arms upon offense. That would mean that blood would most surely be spilled." Harry understood that meant not to say anything that could cause offense. He nodded to the professor and they walked down the length of the room to the only teller that faced the door. "Good morning." Said the professor, and she waited for the goblin to finish weighing what looked like a mound of rubies. Once that task was complete, the goblin looked at the Professor. "If you require attention, please see one of the other tellers." The goblin had a high voice, and sounded incredibly bored. "I think you will find that they will direct me to you." Said the professor, a stern edge growing in her voice, she demanded attention. "And why is that?" The goblin asked, annoyance now clear to hear. In answer, the Professor drew from her front pocket two keys and placed them on the desk. The keys looked rather old, the one that had a P worked onto the top looked decidedly older though. "Those are why." Triumph rang true in the Professor's voice. The goblin glanced at the two keys, and his eyes widened. "My name is Griphook, please excuse any offense. What can I do for you this morning?" The goblin had his previous tone in an instant. "We would like to make a withdrawal. Those keys should tell you what you need to know." McGonogall's voice had lost it's edge. "Of course, please, right this way."

Griphook led the Professor and Harry through a door, to a cart. The cart looked like an old mining cart in every way and Harry found himself doubting it's safety. Griphook had already climbed in, and the Professor didn't hesitate for a moment before climbing in as well, leaving Harry no alternative.

After a ride that was fast enough to make Harry wish he hadn't eaten so much for breakfast, Harry found himself standing at the door to a vault. Griphook strode forward and put the newer key into the lock. The vault door opened creepily, without sound. Inside were stacks of gold, mounds of silver, and fountains of bronze. "Woah! That is a lot of money." Harry's eyes were as large as those gold coins. "Mr. Potter, this is only a fraction of your wealth. The rest of the Potter fortune will become available to you once you have come of age." Harry was surprised to hear Griphook, who hadn't said a word to Harry, speaking to him. Griphook continued "The key for the main Potter vault will remain in here for the time being. This is the money that your parents set aside for you in preparation for the very real threat of their death." That stopped Harry in his tracks, he had been walking slowly into his vault. Minerva, who had been standing watching with a grin on her face, cringed. "Harry we will talk about that later, now is not the time. Enjoy today. That conversation can wait." McGonogall's tone brooked no argument. And Harry didn't offer any. Harry's head was spinning, first he finds out that he has a literal fortune at his disposal and then he hears his parents alluded to, and their death. The odd thing was that their death was not referenced as some kind of freak accident, but something more... sinister... Harry would try to push those thoughts from his mind. But that wasn't a very realistic idea on the Professor's part.

About half an hour later, Harry and Professor McGonogall left Gringotts, with Harry's pockets happily clinking as he walked. That happiness didn't reach Harry though.

The rest of the day was spent going from store to store, buying a wand, a snowy white owl which Harry named Hedwig, a trunk, a cauldron and an assortment of potion ingredients, quills, and rolls of that weird paper, which Harry now knew was parchment. When they went to buy robes, Harry met another boy that was on his way to Hogwarts for the first time this year as well. The boy had extremely light blond hair, grey eyes and sharp facial features. He introduced himself as Draco Malfoy and had a really dignified air about him. Harry looked forward to getting to know Draco better, he seemed to be much more than what he was on the surface.

Harry and the Professor didn't talk much during the day, and once everything was bought, the Professor led Harry back to the spot they had apparated to, the hole in the wall closed behind them, sealing them off from the magical place that was Diagon Alley. "My my, the sun is failing already! By now the wards around the castle will be in place for the rest of year. I'm going to apparate us to just outside the school gates. Then we can go inside and have a good night sleep." Minerva was obviously trying to sound as happy as possible. "What about my parents? You said we would talk about them." Harry sounded like there was a build up of anger developing. "I also said to enjoy today. We will talk tomorrow. Many questions of yours will be answered then."

Those words were left hanging in the air as Minerva McGonogall reached out and touched Harry's hand, a look of desperation and... pain? in her eyes. Those words hung in the air even after they disappeared with a pop.


	9. Message

Hi guys, so I know it's been a hell of a long time since I updated this. I'm really not happy with it, however I am going to work at redoing it and subsequently bettering it. Stay tuned. Anyone that has any ideas for it, please feel free to comment them or PM them to me.

Enjoy your day.


End file.
